The unravelled tapestry
The song sung unaccompanied
The unfinished symphony
The composer chasing the wrong notes
The valley wasted on the artist
The dreamer too tired to sleep
The writer picking only last will and testament
From a lifetime of words
All have joined the ranks
Though they will find neither death or glory here,
For it is time to put our backs into it,
To put clothes on our backs
And food on the table
And we are all the poorer for that.